Littlest Angels Christmas Spirit
by Spyder Webb
Summary: Merry Christmas!


Merry Christmas! I hate to disappoint everyone, but there are no deaths this year…yet. I haven't been in the mood to write anything at all and Christmas is just another thorn in my side. I finally conjured up enough energy to write something and here it is. No, it has no meaning, it might not even make sense, but here it is anyway.

Alternative Universe, may continue in the future.

Slight Duke/Bakura, but only one name is ever mentioned and coincidentally its neither of theirs. Ha!

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Littlest Angels – Christmas Spirit

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Lavender eyes focused on the pure white lights that had been strung up on the Christmas tree but a few hours ago. It was well passed midnight and the wind outside was howling at the occupants inside the warm and festive house.

Too bad he was on the outside looking in.

Lavender eyes teared up from the cold and the owner of those sad eyes tugged his worn coat higher above his shoulders. What he wouldn't give to be on the inside looking out instead of standing in the three feet of snow that had blanketed the ground since early November, in what had once been a pair of running shoes.

The orphanage hadn't gotten as many donations as it had last year and the children there suffered silently as they struggled through the cold season. He couldn't recall how many of the younger kids had gotten sick and would probably never get better.

He sniffled. He was at least a little lucky. He knew to stay away from them so he'd never caught anything, and he never usually got sick to begin with.

Well, sick from a cold anyway. Every Christmas he'd get home sick for a home he'd never had. Nobody wanted to adopt a child at Christmas time…and his years were out numbered. Nobody wanted a teenager anymore…though at least, he still had a few years before that.

He'd been drawn to the little house like a moth to a flame and he couldn't remember how long he'd been standing on the sidewalk looking in at all the Christmas decorations. He'd seen the occupants. A boy and his father, both with hair as white as the snow and the little boy had eyes the colour of hot chocolate. They'd sat by the fireplace for a story not too long ago before retiring to the kitchen for supper.

His empty stomach growled at the idea. When had he eaten last? Their portions at the orphanage were never that big and he'd been giving his to a little girl he'd grown fond of for about a week now. She at least had a chance to be adopted.

Headlights suddenly washed over him and left him not a moment after and he watched as a car pulled into the shoveled driveway. He watched as a man got out of the car, closing and locking the door before going to the front door and just walking in.

Through the large front window Lavender watched as the little boy and his father greeted this new man with the enthusiasm as if greeting a parent. And by the kissed shared between the two adults he realized it was.

Feeling as if he were suddenly intruding, he stared at his frozen feet for a few seconds, before finally pulling himself away from the scene he could only dream about being a part of.

Before he could move too far he heard a small voice from the house and curiously, he looked back.

The little boy was running toward him in stocking feet! The child, he realized he wasn't that much older, stopped in front of him a grinned. "Do you want to come in and get warm? My Daddy just made supper and Papa just got home. There's more than enough." The little boy tilted his head.

Lavender blinked as new tears came to his eyes, these ones not from the cold. "I-"

"Ryou! Get back in here before you freeze!" A man with long black hair – the one who'd just got home – yelled out, "Tell your friend to hurry up! You don't even have boots on!"

Ryou – as Lavender guessed was the boy's named – giggled and waved back to the man in the doorway before turning back to him. "Please? You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but at least for tonight, it's Christmas after all!" And before he could utter a word the little boy had grabbed his bare hand and had dragged him to the open door and inside.

The house smelled like gingerbread and the warmth of the fire stung his cold cheeks.

He welcomed the warmth, as they welcomed him.


End file.
